Dawn of Thunder: Unforgiven
by Chaos Eternus
Summary: Desperate to reduce the number of threats, the Tau'ri send an unexpected envoy to the Unforgiven Cylons. Part of the Dawn Of Thunder series
1. Chapter 1

**Unforgiven  
by chaos_eternus**

I do not own nor do I claim ownership of characters and / or concepts which are not original

This story of part of the Dawn of Thunder / Thundersdawn series.

**Chapter 1**

"You can not be serious,"

With those words from my mouth a tight grin flickered across the face of the man in front of me and with a distinct cynical understanding of human nature I found myself asking for a moment if he had just won a bet.

Knowing this frakhead, he probably had.

"Actually I am quite serious,"

Frak. I don't believe this; I have to be frakking dreaming.

"These orders come direct from Commodore Peters at _Thundersdawn _station, and they have been countersigned both by President Roslin, rather reluctantly apparently and the five permanent members of the UN Security Council, rather less reluctantly at that."

Felgercarb.

Or, to quote the Earthers, bollocks, damn, blast, fuck and shit.

"You're sending me as an emissary to the Cylons?!"

Maybe I overdid it a little there on the incredulity… nah, no such thing.

Okay, so actually I like the idea. I just don't believe they actually have the balls to do it and are actually willing to send me as their envoy.

Me, a bad frakking copy.

A Cylon who turned her back on her people for the love of a man, a human man. Damn, do I wish Helo was here now, then again, I get to tell him about this mess.

Let's see, I imagine his first words will be, "you're kidding me, right?"

He may even pull that damn lollypop out of his mouth for five seconds.

"I understand this exercise fills two roles, one, reducing the number of fronts the Tau'ri Star Service has to worry about in this war and two opening up the potential for trade and long term relations."

She shrugged, knowing her expression was still a little shocked; she turned back to the marine who was briefing her, "okay, the first part of that I get. The second, not so much."

She received a shrug in reply, the light glinting for a moment Lieutenant Colonel Billingsgate's rank tabs, "you are the logical choice, you do know the Cylons better then any of the other available personnel who would be willing to actually consider the proposal without having their arms twisted…"

Tone dry and mildly sarky, he had to be talking about the Colonials there, not that she could really blame them.

"The Cylons in question are more likely to be sympathetic to you then any of the other factions…"

"Wait," a cold horrified pit of awe and shock settled in her stomach but there was a distinct element of anticipation to it as well and she couldn't believe she was considering it seriously; "you're talking about the Unforgiven aren't you?"

"Yes,"

She allowed herself to slump back into the sofa, hands clasped over her mug of coffee, its inscription declaring that 'toasters run on caffeine not electricity' marking it as a personalized gift from Helo.

She glanced once round the living room, "you know, we've made a life for ourselves here."

"I know," she sighed at the calm response, "but it will still be here when you get back. Right now, you're needed again."

"Once more into the breech my friends…" the Cylon known as Athena found herself muttering.

"Quite,"

"Do I at least get a decent ride?" she found herself joking, anything to distract herself from the job ahead.

The Marine smiled, amused, but it was a weary smile, "we've recalled _Indomitable _from Alliance territory just for this mission. Given that she's a _Dauntless _and she isn't being slowed down by convoy rules she is likely to arrive only just after the 1 st Battlegroup so we're talking about a month. Then, she'll need to re-provisioned, minor repairs made; the crew will need leave… You'll have about two months to prepare."

"Two months, then I am Ambassador to the Unforgiven," she knew she sounded dazed, the most she had expected, if she was going to be honest with herself, was a chance to get back onto the flight deck as a Pilot. A position of such trust and power she had never considered.

She grimaced mentally, don't forget responsibility. Frak up and they could decide this Unforgiven routine is such felgercarb.

But there was a bead of curiosity in her, "I understand this kind of assignment is normally given by the diplomatic section, why are you briefing me?"

"This…" her response was a wry half grin, "This is for my sins. It was my idea.

Disbelief… but the beginnings of acceptance, "you're nuts."

"So I have been told,"

That she could believe.

"Try it with anyone else?"

"Maktenos."

Frak, he was serious.

He really _was _nuts.

"How did that work for you?"

"Don't know yet, that team is going by gate, couldn't spare another hull."

"Frak," she put all the feeling into that she could, knowing as usual, they were deep in snafu territory.

* * *

"Are you sure she can be trusted for this?"

Roslin grimaced, acknowledging and to a point, agreeing with Adama's question, "No Admiral, I'm not. But I don't really see we have much of a choice."

The aging warrior grimaced, rubbing his forehead as if to try an ease a building headache, but Roslin wasn't finished.

"One, we _do _need to reduce the number of enemies we have to fight. It wont stop us needing to worry about them but just deferring the threat until later is a worthwhile goal."

"So long as we remember that the Cylons are a real threat this time,"

She nodded, acknowledging the hit, "I really don't think we will be able to get a trading relationship with the cylons, I'm not even sure we should try. We could do with the resources but frankly, I think all the Tau'ri really have they can give the Unforgiven is ideas and technologies."

Roslin nodded agreement as Adama shuddered, "not such a good idea."

"No," his graveley voice filling the room, "its not."

"But there is one other reason for this mission…"

"Oh?"

"Athena," Roslin shrugged, "for better or for worse…we need to know."

"And if she can be trusted?"

Roslin shook her head, her response unspoken.


	2. Chapter 2

**Unforgiven  
by chaos_eternus**

Chapter 2

It was never as easy as you expected.

They should have learnt that lesson from the Colonies, from _Galactica's _ first refugee fleet and the later, more power 2 nd fleet under _Atlantis. _ They should have learnt that from the first human / Cylon war…

Apparently it was a lesson that needed to be learnt again and again and again.

If there was a God, then she was a vengeful bitch.

If there was a God, well, she didn't really think she could blame her.

They would never be forgiven, not for the heresy they had committed in the name of God, in the name of beliefs, in the name of falsehood, lies and treachery. Yet, they had to do something, they had to hold onto the idea that they could repent and perhaps, in time be welcomed into the bosom of peace. If they did not hold onto that then they had no hope and no hope would mean destruction, despair, failure, waste and death.

All that could not be, yet, the goal was always so far away, so difficult to grasp, so difficult to understand how they could make it become a truth.

And if they did not understand it themselves, how could they expect others too? Others like the humans. Not just the Tau'ri, the Colonials and the scattered tribes but the humans of the Unforgiven.

Twenty worlds under their thumb, twenty worlds of primitive, backward humans who often still believed in the false gods and considered indoor plumbing to be the height of technology and decadence.

They could teach, they could guide, that was all they would allow themselves to do but it wasn't enough. The Unforgiven were too few, they needed these humans to take up part of the mantle, to help them seek the destruction of all who would enslave and control and to bring strength and unity to the galaxy.

They needed the hope of knowing that some humans would stand at their side, that if they were destroyed, some other might finish the job for them.

Or perhaps… perhaps they just needed to know they could control somebody's destiny, even if they couldn't honestly claim to control their own.

A terrible dilemma, and an even more terrible burden, they who hoped for forgiveness but expected and deserved none were, more then any other group, alone and outcast in a harsh universe. In unity, they would find strength, in purpose a glimpse of hope.

All that was good, but some more and bigger guns would help their purpose too and it was unlikely they would get those.

Not yet anyways.

Still, never as easy as you expected…

The humans were on strike again; apparently their God had deemed a feast day in celebration of some ancient victory over another Goa'uld and the people wanted the celebration, still stuck to their older false rituals over the simple truths the Unforgiven had presented them. Hated that they had tried to stop the worship of Gods they knew to be false.

Hated the Unforgiven in many and viscous ways.

The hate was good, it was pure and honest, but it was also bad, it was disruptive, unpredictable, wrongly aimed. Humans, never quite one thing or the other.

They tried to teach but all they got was resistance and an aversion to change from what had proven itself to be the most adaptable species known to the Cylons.

Paradox.

But in that paradox, a certain truth.

The humans could not be controlled; they even resisted being controlled by themselves and their own, they could be herded but if they realised, they could be as vicious as a caged rabid dog.

They needed the humans… but they didn't know what to do with the humans.

They had to find the knot that would unravel that precious, dangerous paradox but they had to survive to do so. Nobody liked the Unforgiven, no-one trusted them.

More then anyone else, they were on their own.

* * *

"She thinks too much,"

"You do not think enough," the two Cylons shared a comradely grin, before glancing once more through the doors of the mediation room at the bowed, weary figure of the original Boomer, the one who had shot Adama, the one who, as much as the Unforgiven could be considered to have a leader, was their leader.

The one who had divined their purpose and more then any other, was forever burdened by it.

Her twins shook their heads sadly as they watched over their friend.

"She knows our purpose, she should be considering more the application of who we are and what we do, not worrying so much over things we can not control,"

A nod, they didn't need to guess what Boomer was flagellating herself over, they already knew but, changed as she was by her Colonial past, not quite as well as they knew themselves.

"Humans can not be controlled, yet they must be."

"No, control will not end our purpose."

"True,"

"The humans know our purpose, why do they not accept and assist?"

"Perhaps they do not know theirs?"

"Excuse me," the two stood aside warily as an Eleven shouldered her way past them into the meditation room.

"We lost another basestar,"

"Frak," Boomer exclaimed, resisting with great difficulty the urge to slam her hands against the harsh plastic of the wall, "that three this month."

"The Secessionists are concentrating more of their forces on us now with the collapse of the Loyalists," the eleven stated, her expression worried as she walked up to her fellow Cylon, "the bulk of their forces are still engaged in rounding up as many Loyalists and their assets as possible, but they have still been able to increase their deployments into our sector by about ten percent."

"And as they round up and reprogram more Loyalist Warriors, _Raiders, _Basestars, they get even more toys to deploy against us," Boomer shook her head, "when they finish consolidating…"

She didn't need to finish the sentence; the former Geminon Schoolteacher knew the projections as well as any other, "then they will be able to bring overwhelming force to bear against us or the humans. Either way, one of us dies then they move onto the other."

"This must not happen,"

"I do not see how we can prevent it," she noted quietly.

"I know," Boomer shouted, her frustration coming through in the anger in her voice, then, more quietly, "I know."

"If God truly blesses our course…"

"There is no god, there is only falsehood and lies, hope and despair,"

"I know you lost your faith," the eleven sighed, "and it pains those of us who still hold faith that you are willing to blaspheme so, but anger will not help. You can not just lash out, not whilst you are our leader. You need to control yourself if you expect us to follow you."

"I know," she shook her head, "it's just so hard sometimes…"

"That we understand," the eleven smiled sympathetically, and then wiped the look of her face, trying for brisk, "but we need orders and direction if there is to be any chance of surviving the storm to come."

"I do not know what orders to give yet," the response was candid, but certainly not the one her fellow Cylons wanted to hear.

"You are going to have to figure that out," she noted, "you choose this path, we only choose to follow."

Boomer nodded, her eyes distant, "how does the training of the humans go?"

"It goes," a slight shrug, "the younger generation are accepting easier of course but it is still slow. We have finally got them to accept the concept of sewers, drains and a separate clean water supply and why those are needed,"

She barked out a laugh, "great progress, perhaps in a hundred years we'll finally have them up to crewing for us… if we last that long."

"Wishing will not make it so,"

"No it won't," Boomer replied, "but action might. Send emissaries of our own into Loyalist space; obtain as many of their former units as you can. Offer sanctuary and positions to any self-aware units who don't wish to join the Secessionists."

The eleven nodded, and started to walk from the room, "and eleven, gather a taskforce together for smash raids on Secessionists targets along the former Secessionist Loyalist border."

"Very well,"

With a sigh, Boomer nodded, and turned back to her thoughts.


End file.
